


we've got til noon, here comes the moon

by skypointing



Category: Big Wolf on Campus
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied Character Death, M/M, Reverse Chronology, human!tommy, i'm sorry guys seriously, werewolf!merton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skypointing/pseuds/skypointing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is not a fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we've got til noon, here comes the moon

**Author's Note:**

> i've been watching a lot of teen wolf lately and i'm sure you can guess why it inspired me to come back to the original cheesy, awful, so-bad-it's-good highschool werewolf fandom. 
> 
> i've never been a huge angst writer, and i'm not sure what prompted this. probably too much la dispute on repeat, idk. i hope y'all like it, though. or you can hate me. i wouldn't blame you.
> 
> i wrote this last night and i'm impatient, so it hasn't been beta'd. any mistakes are therefore my own, and if it's glaring enough to cause confusion, please feel free to point it out.

There is no happy ending.

There is just the end.

*

“I can’t do this,” Tommy sobs, scrubbing his hands roughly through his hair. “I can’t—I can’t—” His voice cracks and fails, and his face is a mess, a river of tears Merton would dry and kiss away but he can’t, they can’t, never again.

“You have to,” Merton says, and his voice is steady. His voice is steady but his body quakes with tremors, shaking apart at the seams. “It’s not safe. You’re not safe. I’m a monster, Tommy, but I won’t be the one that takes you from this world.”

Tommy whimpers, keening high in the back of his throat. His eyes are clenched tightly shut, tears leaking continuously from beneath the lids. His bottom lip is bloody from his own teeth. His long fingers spasm along the stock of the shotgun in his right hand.

“I—I love you,” he says, voice hitching. _Goodbye._ “I love you so much.”

Merton flinches, feeling like his chest is gaping, like his beating heart is exposed, like he’s falling, falling. “I know,” he whispers, making himself meet Tommy’s eyes. “I love you enough to save you from myself.”

Another sobs rips itself from Tommy’s mouth, unbidden. His trembling hands raise the barrel of the gun.

Merton closes his eyes.

*

A week before his first full moon, Merton finally identifies the itching beneath his skin.

His wolf is howling, _wailing_ to be let forth, to find, to take, to claim. It demands Tommy. It intends to mate him, to make the other boy his own, consenting or not. The wolf shifts restlessly in his bones, rumbling deep in his chest, and Merton knows. Bile rises in the back of his throat, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

God help him, he loves the stupid, trusting boy, the _human_ , and he has a week. He has a week to fix this.

He can fix this.

*

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpans. One of his teeth pricks the inside of his lip. He swallows it down.

“I know,” says Tommy, all smiles, all green eyes and curly hair and lanky, lazy teenage boy. “But it’s our—well, it’s been two weeks, I don’t know—” The dog collar dangling from his hand jangles as he twitches it. “If I’m yours, than you’re mine, right?”

Merton sees what’s he’s planning to do before he does it, and he ducks under Tommy’s outstretched arm, the other boy trying to snap the collar around his neck and Merton can’t stop it, he can’t, he can’t—

A snarl crashes from his throat, teeth bared, eyes flashing, and suddenly he’s got Tommy pinned, back against the wall, and the other boy is gasping, chest heaving, reeking of panic. Merton freezes, clawed hands iron manacles around the other boy’s wrists, and he slams his eyes shut, forces it down, cracks a lion whip at the wolf in his ribcage and makes it submit.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry, you can’t—you’re mine, you’re _mine_ , and you just can’t, and I’m so sorry, please. I’m sorry.”

There’s a breadth of pause, and then Tommy relaxes in fractions, slowly, heartbeat normalizing. He chews his lip and nods minutely. Meeting Merton’s eyes, he says, “I’m yours,” and tips his head, baring his neck, and that’s it.

The wolf bays and slams out of Merton with a creaking of bones and Merton _whines_ , unable to stop himself, mouth finding the juncture of Tommy’s neck, teeth clamping down, breath huffing hot and wet across the tan skin. Tommy groans, muscles flexing as his trapped hands clench, and Merton would worry but the room is thick with the smell of arousal and Merton can’t stop, he can’t.

They stay against the wall and it’s nothing but rutting and filthy moans and a broken record litany of _mine mine mine_.

*

“You’re right.”

Merton cocks his head, idly tongues a lower canine, and regards the boy at his door. Tommy is standing at the base of the stairs leading to Merton’s basement ( _den_ ), shifting nervously from foot to foot, but expression determined. He seems to be waiting for Merton to respond, and when he doesn’t, Tommy continues.

“This town is dangerous. The whole world is, I guess. I don’t want to die, I mean, jesus, I’m a football player, I can’t—” he breaks off, thumbs his nose. “I accept. Your offer, I mean. To be a part of your—I appreciate that you gave me the option. I think you could have made me.”

Merton stares at him. _You’re right_ , he thinks distantly. The wolf paces up and down his spine. _I could have_.

“You want to be pack,” Merton says, and it’s not a question. There’s only the slightest hesitation before Tommy nods. “Good. I…yes. Come in.” He steps further into his room, allowing Tommy to follow.

He does.

*

“I _told_ you,” Merton snarls, and hooks a claw in the collar of Tommy’s shirt, dragging backwards and just out of reach of a grasping hand. “Idiot.”

Tommy yelps and scrambles further into Merton’s space, edging behind him even as he snaps back, “You didn’t mention _vampires_! Whose fault is that? Vampires!”

The creature in question hisses maliciously, clacking its overgrown fangs at Tommy and eyeing the werewolf protecting him.

“Idiot,” Merton spits again, and his own teeth shift in response to the threat. “I protect pack. I gave you the option. I tried. The get-out-of-jail-free card expires after this. Do not pass go--”

He darts forward between one second and the next, snatching the vampire at the throat and crushing.

“--do not collect two hundred dollars.”

*

“I can protect you, you know.”

The boy freezes, shoulders hunching defensively. It’s dark out, a new moon night, and this stretch of road is only sparsely decorated with street lights. He squints into the darkness, scowling. Merton is only a shadow, a suggestion of a person, and that’s enough, for this.

“Who the hell are you?” the boy, Tommy, asks. All bravado.

Merton huffs, licking his lips. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is this: I can protect you.” He extends a hand, patchy with rough fur and tipped with claws, into the weak pool of light cast by the nearest lamp. “There are worse things than me out there.”

Tommy flinches away, just slightly, at the hand. “Who— _what_ are you?”

Merton’s eyes flash bright amber, and he knows Tommy sees it, because the smell of adrenaline is rolling off him in waves now. “I’m sure you’ll put it together. I’m making you a rare offer. Become part of my pack, and I will protect you. It’s pretty simple.” He pauses. “I’ll let you think about it, though.”

There’s  a _fwip_ of air, and a card lands on the pavement at Tommy’s feet.

Merton walks away and doesn’t look back.

*

Two days after Merton is bitten, he is standing at his locker in the near empty hallway, considering shoving his head inside like the proverbial ostrich in the sand and waiting out the rest of the day.

“Hey,” says a voice to his left, and his head snaps around, eyes narrow. Tommy Dawkins stands at the locker next to his and gives him a grin. “Wake up, man. You’re gonna be late for class.”

Tommy turns and walks back down the hallway, having gotten his books, and Merton’s eyes track him of their own accord. Something is crawling underneath his skin, pawing at his innards, gnawing on his ribs. He can almost tolerate the smells and the light and the hypersensitivity to touch. This is completely different, a monster in its own right.

The wolf shifts in his throat, and his lips twitch into a small smile. He wants pack. He needs pack. Merton is okay, but he’s lonely. He can’t do this alone, and he won’t.

He eventually turns back toward his locker, the tardy bell shrilling against his ears but now easily ignored.

*

This is not a fairytale. 


End file.
